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“I have no idea. It’s just an address,” I tell her, flipping the card over to find it blank on the back and pulling the cotton out of the box, but nothing indicates who sent it or what it’s for.
“Oooooh, a scavenger hunt!” Belle says excitedly. “Did you know the largest scavenger hunt that made it into the Guinness world records had more than three thousand participants, and it was in celebration of Canada’s 150th anniversary? Participants attempted to complete 150 tasks throughout the city of Ottawa, including specialized trivia stations, posting more than thirty-one thousand images to Instagram with the hashtag find150. Oh, my God! Look! It has the number 150 on the card. Maybe someone invited you to celebrate Canada. Yeah, Canada!”
I shake my head at her and push up from the couch.
“Having a Canadian fiancé has gone to your head, Belle. I’m pretty sure Canada didn’t randomly invite me to celebrate their history.”
“Well, I could use a break. Who’s up for a road trip?” Cindy asks, taking the card from my hand as I twist the silver key between my fingers.
“This is ridiculous. We’re just going to go to some random address on a card when we have no idea where it is or what the key is for? What if a serial killer sent it and he’s luring us to his murder house?” I ask.
“PJ gave me a Taser to keep in my purse and it’s fully charged,” Cindy states, grabbing her purse from the love seat and pulling out her car keys.
“And you just punched a guy in the face and kicked him in the balls,” Belle adds. “Vincent’s been teaching me some self-defense moves recently. We’ll be fine.”
“Has he really been teaching you self-defense moves, or have you guys just been wrestling naked?” I ask, my heart cracking a little bit, wishing I could do some naked wrestling with Eric right now.
“Whatever. You don’t know my life. Vincent is freakishly strong. I’ve got to use a lot of muscle power to flip him over and ride him like Seabiscuit,” Belle argues.
“Fine. Let’s go. At least a murder house will be a nice distraction,” I sigh, grabbing my purse from the couch as we all head out of the house to what will most likely be our gruesome and untimely deaths.
* * *
“See? Not a murder house,” Cindy states happily when her GPS tells us we’ve arrived at our destination. We drive through the parking lot until we see the number 150, and she stops the car.
“Oh, no. I’m sure there’s nothing creepy or sinister about a storage facility,” I mutter, looking up at the metal garage door we’re parked in front of. “Police have never raided one of these things to find random body parts in ziplock bags and coolers full of organs.”
Cindy shuts off the engine. We all get out of her car and slowly walk up to the garage door, which has a padlock down by the ground, keeping it closed.
A loud, electrical crackling sound makes me jump and I turn around to find Cindy firing up her Taser.
“Just being prepared. I’m sure it’s fine. Unlock it,” she tells me, spreading her legs and holding her arm out, aiming the Taser right at the door.
With a roll of my eyes, I squat down and stick the key in the padlock, surprised when it turns easily and the lock opens right up. I don’t know why, but I thought for sure this would turn out to be some kind of a joke or something. That we’d get all the way out here and the key wouldn’t work on whatever it was for. Removing the padlock from the metal hook, I set it on the ground, and Belle comes up next to me, helping me grab the handle to pull the garage door up and open.
The door catches on the chains in the ceiling and easily slides the rest of the way up when it gets above our heads. As soon as the storage locker is wide open and the sunlight from outside illuminates the dark interior, my throat immediately clogs with emotion and my eyes fill with tears.
“Damn. I was kind of hoping for a man in a mask holding a chain saw. I’ve never gotten to use this Taser on a real person before,” Cindy complains as I take a tentative step inside the room, my heart thundering in my chest.
“That would have been fun. Especially if Ariel’s dad were with us. Most Tasers unleash fifty thousand volts of electricity, which make the muscles in your body twitch and convulse uncontrollably, oftentimes making the person soil themselves. Mr. Triton would have gotten a kick out watching another person piss his pants today,” Belle says with a laugh.
I barely hear what they’re saying as I look around the room and the first tear falls down my cheek.
